


The Things I Hate About You

by ordinarylittleme



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (well kind of), Angst, Lots of Angst, M/M, Swearing, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-10-01 14:51:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10192346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ordinarylittleme/pseuds/ordinarylittleme





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [loveglowsinthedark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveglowsinthedark/gifts).



I hate you.  
Always so fucking perfect.  
I mean, nobody else would be the first first-year Seeker in a century _and_ ruin the Dark Lord's second lieutenant's plans. But you did. You won all the matches despite being in the hospital wing in and out like a cheating husband in beds, and returned that diary with a charred hole in the center. He was pissed all right, it took me _ages_ to calm him down and I could've spent that time doing something else(like you).  
I hate the fact that you saw through the cracks in my armor. That you saw me scared in the Forbidden Forest, that you saw that same fear again when we saw those Thestrals. Yet another thing you could do that us mere peasants can't, you'd think I'd seen plenty of death but no. My parents shielded me from it, shielded me from everything until they threw me into it.  
I hate that you have friends like you do, friends that give a shit whether or not you're alive, friends who support and love you throughout everything, friends who've enough brains to survive alone but choose not to. Weasley and Granger _choose_ to be your sidekicks and they _don't fucking mind_. Okay, Weasley does sometimes, but he gets over it. Always. And then it's the dream team, the golden trio.  
I hate the way I feel when I look at you. The way my heart skips a beat, the way I almost lean closer to you whenever you pay me attention. And your eyes, your mother's I believe. Malachite green. Yours are the only pair of eyes in the whole school that get to me like they do, I think if our eyes met, really met, you'd know everything about me.  
And I hate that too. I'm a Malfoy, I'm meant to be cold and in control all the time, apathetic and cruel like my predecessors before me. But I can't really do that, not all the time. My facade falters sometimes and I think you know that.  
I hate how that thought scares me so much.  
I hate that I can't ever escape you, not even in my dreams. No, that's where you are the most, that's where you're doing _things_ that invade my mind and cause heat rising up to my face. Making people blush, yet _another_ talent of yours it seems. Last time I did that was when you rejected my offer of friendship, nobody had ever done that before. Nobody has ever done it afterwards. And it stung, Potter. It stung and I resolved to make you pay.  
I was doing splendidly for a while, until-shock horror-you won again. You developed an immunity to my words, nothing I said would affect you.  
I hate that when we returned for seventh year, you were so...so not you. Withdrawn and silent and not responding to anybody but Weasley and Granger, and I hate how I wanted to comfort you. Malfoys comfort _nobody_ , Savior or not.  
I hate the fact that the concern won out. I did what you did, stalked you for the better part of a year until you caught me.  
And you just...you just looked at me, didn't try to yell or curse me. When I threatened to curse you, you stood there looking at me. Just looking, with those malachite eyes, darkening with some inner turmoil, and I felt something snap.  
Then I kissed you.  
I, Draco Malfoy, kissed Harry Potter in the middle of the corridor. (After curfew, but still.)  
I hate you for kissing me back. For opening your mouth and wrapping your arms around me, clinging onto me like I was your last hope.  
And I _really_ hate the fact that, then and there, I fell in love with you.  
But what I hate most is that, no matter how I try, I can't hate you.  
It's sad, really.


End file.
